


Wants and Needs

by rant_girl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fuck Or Die, Reluctant Dean Winchester, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:48:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23636332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rant_girl/pseuds/rant_girl
Summary: Claire picked up something she really shouldn't have and now she needs Dean to fuck her.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Claire Novak
Kudos: 71
Collections: SPN_Masquerade Spring 2020, SomethingBlue42's Favorites





	Wants and Needs

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](https://spn-masquerade.livejournal.com/10986.html?thread=4144362#t4144362).

Claire pushed her hand back through her hair, head tipping all the way back onto the pillow, something halfway between a whine and a whimper leaving her lips, her other hand was between her legs working double time on her clit. 

“Fuuuuuuu-ck.”

She’d never felt so turned on in her entire life, and she couldn’t make it stop. 

She’d been out on a hunt...or well on the start of what could have been a hunt. She’d been snooping around some old antique shop with a serious occult vibe going on and she’d very stupidly (retrospectively) picked up an amulet. The owner had told her to take it as a gift, which had all seemed perfectly normal and rational when she was holding it. It felt like it should be hers somehow. Like it was _meant_ for her.

The second she put it down when she got back to her motel room there hadn’t been enough time for her to even fully comprehend the enormity of this particular fuck up before she had had to get her clothes off. She felt hot. _Too_ hot. The heat seemingly radiating directly from her pussy. She was dripping wet before she even touched herself. And she hadn’t stopped touching herself. She couldn’t keep still. Her skin was humming with it, every fibre of her being aching with need. For her to be filled.

She still had the presence of mind to ask for help, and there was only one name that sprung to mind. She sent out the _bat signal_ to the only man she’d want to do the filling. 

Dean Winchester.

_HELP ME_

_PLEASE._

He didn’t ask her where, just said he’d be there. She’d made sure the GPS on her phone was turned on. 

She only had to hope he didn’t bring Sam. Sam would overthink everything and want to use magic to save her. Call that witch that both Winchesters seemed to be weirdly fond of. Waste time. Dean would do what was needed to be done. She wanted him to do what was needed to be done. God did she _need_ him to do what needed to be done. 

And as it turned out she was in luck.

She had no idea how long it had taken him to get there – _long enough_ – her concept of time was very unreliable at present. But when the Impala rumbled up to the motel and after she fell silent there was only the sound of one door opening and closing. 

Claire called out his name, loud as she could, thankful she was on the ground floor, still rubbing her clit furiously as she writhed on the bed and then he burst into the room.

“What the fuck?”

“ _Dean_. Please. I need you to help m-me.”

Dean closed the door, taking off his jacket which he draped over her, when he seemingly realized that she wasn’t gonna stop touching herself, “Claire. What the hell is this?” his beautiful green eyes full of concern and outrage and some mild confusion until they looked deep into her lust filled ones, and something changed, his voice lacking the bark it’d had just moments before, “What happened?”

“I touched a…ah…uuhh, a thing,” and she really did try to stop pleasuring herself at that moment, her hand slowing right down for a second or two, but it was as if it had a mind of its own, the ache was too much, and slowing down didn’t improve her ability to think straight either, “the amulet!” her free hand flapping in the general direction of where she thought she’d put it down, “And now I feel all...all _hot_. Like **so** hot. Like–”

“Like if you don’t get fucked you’re gonna die?” Dean finished for her, if rather gravely. 

“What?” that penetrated the sex fog in her brain, “Die? I’m gonna die? Dean?”

“It’s a curse–”

“Can’t we break it some other way?”

Dean shook his head solemnly, “Not in time.”

“Well, then,” Claire bit her lip, her head tilting back, as her free hand brushed back through hair again, back to plan A, “I want you to fuck me.”

Dean shut his eyes tight, she saw the tick in his jaw before he shook his head, his movements slight, “Claire. I can’t–. I don’t–. We can find someone else.”

“No,” Claire said firmly, shaking her head a lot more vigorously, “I don’t want to have sex with some random creepy stranger.”

“Claire–” and she didn’t know how but she could _feel_ that what he wanted to say was along the lines of that she was like a daughter to him, and fuck if that didn’t make her somehow even wetter than she already was, she felt it gush out of her. The moan that escaped her long and low.

She already kinda had a thing for older guys. Not that she’d ever actually done anything with one. But guys her own age were idiots and would probably scream and high tail it if they ever came across what went bump in the night. 

Dean on the other hand…she turned her head so she could press her nose to his jacket, and she inhaled deep, his scent was all over it, and for a brief moment it soothed her. It was manly and woodsy, and it renewed her absolute _need_ to be fucked. When her eyes fluttered back open they were immediately drawn to Dean’s ridiculously handsome face.

He still hadn’t said anything else, sadness warring with all the other emotions behind green as he just stared right back at her, motionless.

“I’m not a virgin,” she blurted out, if that was what he was maybe worried about, though she wasn’t sure if that actually made him feel any better or worse. Or if he even believed her. But his silence was starting to freak her out, “Dean, _please_. You’re the only one I trust.” 

He turned his head away from her then.

“ _Please_. I don’t wanna die,” tears creeping into her voice.

Dean shook his head again with a very heavy sigh. Pushing his hand across his lips, and then scrubbing it down his face. And then he sighed again with a nod this time.

“Don’t–” he started, “I’m gonna need you to turn over for me. Okay? Because I can’t–” he shook his head, eyes to the ceiling, his tongue sweeping out over his lip, “If I’m gonna do this? Ground Rules: I can’t have you looking at me. Claire, I just, can’t. And _don’t_ , say anything. Not a word, or my name. Do you understand?”

Claire opened her mouth and then thought better of it, nodding instead. She whipped Dean’s jacket off her body and rolled over onto her front, knees bending as she moved down closer to him and the end of the bed, assuming the position. She had to bite her hand to stop herself from giggling. Her fidgeting ratcheting right back up to eleven in anticipation. Hips twitching. They stilled only when Dean put his hand on her left.

And that was all he did, nothing else. Not yet. Minutes ticked by. She could hear them on the clock. And she just had to take a peek over her shoulder. Dean had his eyes closed, but that didn’t stop her from feeling how much he didn’t want to do this, how it pained him. Her own eyes flicking down to his cock, which was huge, and so thick, and that was with him still flaccid.

“ _Claire_.” he warned and her head snapped back immediately, and she dropped it down onto her arms, _resist temptation_. 

She could feel his gaze on her pussy. Made her shiver. But she wasn’t going to interrupt him again. She could behave. It was harder without her fingers on her clit, she felt needier. With the smallest hints of anxiety running in the background.

The only noise in the room, was the damn clock, and all the little whiny, pouty, breathy noises she couldn’t stop herself from making until she heard the sound of what could only be Dean’s dick in his hand. The hand still on her hip started moving too, just a gentle caress. Her breath hitching when his hand migrated to her ass. His fingers so close and yet still so far. She whined non-verbally. Her hips rolling back and forth of their own accord.

Claire had to bite her hand again to stop herself from begging and pleading for him to just fuck her, she was on the verge of tears, when he finally – **FINALLY** – touched her pussy, his thumb teasing her folds and she cried out when he brushed over her clit and back again as he trailed his thumb back up to her opening, teasing around but not slipping in, fore and middle fingers becoming involved. Her pussy squeezing his fingers as he worked the two into her, and she moaned, unable to hide a hint of the frustration that had been building since she let go of the stupid amulet.

She was so close to saying his name, to begging, when suddenly his fingers were gone, she didn’t even have time to protest, because he pressed the tip of his cock to her clit, rubbing her with it, up and down, the whole length of her slit, pausing for a few seconds each time he got to her entrance and just holding it there. _Fuck_ it felt good. 

“Mmm,” she moaned again, a full body shiver taking hold when he finally pushed the tip into her. Each glorious inch sweet agony as he eased himself in with shallow thrusts –because he didn’t want to hurt her. She _knew_ it was because he didn’t want to hurt her. God would she ever not mind if he wanted to hurt her, just a little bit– she’d never had anything so huge inside her before and she didn’t even have all of him in yet.

She _risked_ a whispered, “ _please_ ,” mostly because she really, _really_ couldn’t stop the word from tripping past her lips, but also because she was losing her mind. If he reacted to it, she didn’t know, he didn’t break pace. Took his time with her until she couldn’t physically take any more of him. His hands taking a firm hold of her hips, caressing her thighs.

Dean wanted to know that she was okay.

For the first time Claire felt full and she felt completely safe. But she just nodded, saying only, “Please.” Vowing in her head that she wouldn’t say another word until it was all over.

And Dean fucked her. He fucked her hard. Raw. She rode his emotion, like his cock, like it was a drug, her hips rocking back to meet every smack, her moans growing louder in perfect cacophony with his grunts. Claire got her fingers back on her clit when she felt the pressure change, her walls clamping tighter and longer as she raced to her release. Dean’s fingers took over from hers then, his more deft and unrelenting, and she came harder than she’d ever managed to before, cresting and falling right into another orgasm when Dean kept going. The third came when he did, and he held on to her tight. 

Keeping her in place. 

The gentleness returning to his touch when she ragdolled, her limbs feeling liquid. Her pussy muscles still squeezing his dick, unwilling to give him up just yet. Even with the lust haze lifting, or maybe because of it. 

But she knew Dean wouldn’t want to touch her again.

Claire wasn’t a crier. She wasn’t. But when Dean pulled out, she burst into tears.

“Dean, please don’t leave me.”

And there was a horrible pregnant pause before she was being pulled up into his arms, “Claire,” he said softly but firm, hand in her hair as he held her to his chest, her head tucked under his chin and he stroked her back until she stopped shaking. His eyes were heavy with sadness and guilt when they pulled apart. Self-loathing.

He cleaned her up. Told her to wait while he picked up a few things for her. He’d be back. Claire hoped he’d be back. There was a terrible pit in her stomach. She took a quick shower while he was gone. Re-dressed herself. Sat on the bed he’d remade. Tears welling in her eyes again. Knowing Dean would never look at her the same way ever again, if at all. And wishing he could look at her the way she was discovering she wanted him to. 

“Here.”

Was all Dean said when he returned, presenting her with a paper bag and a bottle of water. She licked her lip, brow half scrunched, one eyebrow arched in question at him, but he wouldn’t hold her gaze. Claire opened the bag, there was a protein bar, a chocolate bar, some paracetamol. She pulled out the other box. The morning after pill. The pit in her stomach inexplicably and irrationally filling with rage. 

She _knew_ it was stupid.

“Is this all you care about?” flying from her lips as she thrust the box towards his face, even although all his actions showed that that wasn’t the case at all. 

“ _Claire_.”

That one utterance of her name somehow containing everything Dean couldn’t and didn’t want to say, and that subtle shake of his head paired with the look in his eyes. 

There was a part of Claire that wanted to scream and pound her fists into his chest and trash everything in sight. 

She threw herself back onto the bed. Staring up at the ugly ass ceiling. 

“Please. Take the pill. I’ll take you back to Jody’s.”

She was gonna take it. 

“I want to go to Donna’s.”

She didn’t want to face Jody. Didn’t want to face feeling like she’d let her down all over again.

“Okay,” Dean said, “I’ll call Donna.”


End file.
